Where Can We Go From Here?
by Razzledazzy
Summary: AU. Arthur Kirkland, police officer, meets Alfred F Jones, fighter pilot, one day in a cafe.
1. Chapter 1

The Englishman sat in his favorite spot in the corner bookstore cafe, the cushy red chair in the corner, away from the main cafe traffic. It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, nothing was going on. So here he sat, re-reading Charles Dickens for the untold time.

"Hey, can I use the honey?"

Arthur looked up at the young man who had spoken, his bright blue eyes matching his smile. He seemed freshly pressed, except for the bomber jacket which was old and worn. His dog tags shone like they were fresh out of the box.

"Sure," he replied as he passed the little, bear shaped bottle.

"Thanks," he said pouring some in his drink, "Hey is that Charles Dickens?"

"Yeah," the Brit replied, not saying anything as the man sat down at the table with him. He had always been an anti social person, and if the blonde wanted to sit at his table that was his business.

"I like his take on England, it's realistic," the American replied sipping his coffee.

Arthur paused, setting aside the book. Maybe he could actually have a nice conversation about literature with someone for once.

"You don't think it's too pessimistic?" Arthur said shyly.

"Naw, things had to have sucked back then. My name's Alfred by the way. Alfred Jones." the guy said with a shrug.

Arthur took a sip of his tea, "Arthur Kirkland, if you want to know."

Closing time at the cafe found them still talking, having debated through Shakespeare and into George Lucas's later works.

"Hey Artie, do you think I could have your number and address? I'm shipping out to Afghanistan on Monday, and it would be nice to have someone to send stuff back too," Alfred said sheepishly.

Arthur was floored by the sudden question. Several thoughts ran through his mind at once. He had no question that Alfred could be trusted so giving out his information wasn't what bothered him about the question. What really bother him was that Alfred made it sound like he had no family to write back too. He knew from his police work, that people with no family were more likely to take risks.

"Sure," Arthur said writing his information down on a napkin, checking it twice.

Alfred smiled and pocketed the paper. "Talk to ya soon Artie!"

**((Anyone see where this is headed?))**

Arthur didn't really think about his blonde friend as he worked through the week afterwards. His work as a Patrol Officer was stressful and he rarely had time to let his mind wander.

It was a little bit of a surprise when he received the first call from, number withheld.

"_Artie?_"

"Alfred?"

_"Yeah man! I'm finally here. Man is it hot!"_

Just like that Arthur found all his tension and stress sliding away as he laughed at his friend, "What did you expect? It's the desert!"

_"Well I'm not on the ground much. I'm a Pilot."_

"Ah, so you spend all day with your head stuck in the clouds," Arthur said sitting down.

Alfred's laugh echoed through the receiver.

_"Lord it's good to talk to someone."_

"Is it that rough?"

_"Not much on my end, I really feel bad for the guys on the ground. They get put in the most danger.__"_

"Oh," Arthur bit his lip.

_"Anyway I've got to go. I just wanted you to know I was still alive. My computer will be up soon, so I might be able to skype or email you soon."_

"Okay. Bye Alfred, stay safe."

_"I can't make any promises."_

Arthur hung up. His worries about work replaced with new worries about Al. It was hard to imagine that they had met less than a week ago, and he was already that attached to him.

The next few weeks saw Arthur looking forward to Alfred's calls more and more. They talked about everything, jobs, old pets, crazy exs, and the like. The nightly 15 minute call soon became the highlight of Arthur's day. He started to worry that he was falling in love with the cocky blonde man.

The first night they got skype to work, Arthur spent most of the time taking just watching Al talk. His hair was messed up, more so than it had been they day they met. That one piece of hair still sticking up above all the rest. His smile was as bright as ever, but Arthur could spot the bags under his eyes.

"Al are you okay?"

_"O'corse I'm fine, I'm over here being a hero," _He said with a smile, before continuing to talk about the aid mission he had been on the day before.

That conversation went on until Al had to report to work, nearly an hour and a half later.

With the time difference they days when they could skype were few, but the nightly conversations went on like clockwork. About 4 months into the deployment Arthur slowly began to accept the fact that he had fallen in love with the eager, hyper blonde.

On evening he came home to a letter in his mailbox. He opened it to find a lot of photos and note.

Picking up the letter he started reading the messy handwriting:

_Yo,_

_Arthur so I remember you said you liked getting actual mail. So I decided to write you a letter. Ain't I sweet? Things are fine right now. I can't sleep, but it's more because of the fact that the food really sucks here. Only half the meals ready to eat are actually great. You gotta be careful in the mess hall, their eggs are green._

_I'm just probably going to ramble on in this, and I get sentimental at night so brace your self. LOL._

_I'm glad I met you. You mean a lot to me. I really like you. Ignore that if its going to make our friendship awkward._

_I mean forget that. Damn it this confessing thing is hard._

_I know I joined the military to make a difference in the world but you gave me a reason to._

_Like?__ Love,_

_Alfred._

_P.S. Jesus I'm so corny._

_P.S.S. Watch this letter get lost and not even make it to you. Then all my embarrassment will be for nothing. _

_P.S.S.S I sent some pictures too. _

Arthur just stood there the paper shaking in his hands. Could it really be that his solider loved him back?

Looking through the pictures he smiled, most of them had been taken during Al's time off. They ranged from playing video games to playing basketball. There was one picture, however, that really caught his eye. It was of Alfred getting into the cockpit of his jet, with that same silly smile that he had on his face the day they met.

Taking that picture he slipped it into to an old frame on the mantel. The frame had originally contained a landscape picture that Arthur had never been bothered to change. It was a nice change to be able to look around his apartment and see something in his house that was personal.

Carefully picking up the letter he tucked it into the copy of Charles Dickens he had been reading the day he met Al.

_Soon,_ he reminded himself as he put the book back on the shelf, he would see Alfred soon enough.

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><p><strong>AN<strong>

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><p><strong>So yeah this started out as an angst drabble.<strong>

**The story ran away from me.**

**It may or may not turn out angsty now.**


	2. Chapter 2

After taking a day to collect his thoughts Arthur tried to compose a reply to Alfred's letter. Three tries of writing out oh so eloquent responses later, Arthur just put his thoughts into one short e-mail.

**Idiot****, I love you too**.

Before he could chicken out, he clicked the button that would send his message hurdling through the internet. Sighing, he pushed away from his desk, and set about going to work for the day.

He attempted to get the blonde out of his mind while he worked, but the world was against him.

"Arthur? Why ze long face?" his french partner, Francis, asked with a mouthfull of jelly torts.

"Nothing! It's none of your business anyway!" Arthur replied crossing his arms. Francis was the kind of person who stuck his nose in other peoples business. That was the reason he had become a cop, so he could snoop around.

Francis just blinked at Arthur's outburst, "Oui, touchy touchy! Who defecated in your decaf, as zey say?"

"Go. Away. Frogger." Arthur moaned letting his head hit the cafe counter, it was lunch break, and half the cops from his unit were at the same place. Funny how it always seemed to work like that. Arthur suspected that Francis and Antonio planned it that way.

"What ez this?" Francis asked plucking the a paper out of the pocket of Arthur's patrol vest. The paper happened to be Alfred's letter.

"YOU GIVE THAT BACK TO ME RIGHT NOW YOU FRENCH BASTARD!" he yelled trying to grab the paper as Francis held it out of reach.

Francis scanned the letter before tossing it to Toni, letting out a little "Ohonhonho" as he did so. He smirked down at Arthur, "Does our little Angleterre have a boyfriend?"

"You tosser! That is private! I told you not to call me that either!" Arthur huffed, trying not to let the blush rise to his cheeks.

A couple of the cops laughed, others edged away from what was soon to become a full blown fight between the two partners. Antonio just folded up the letter and gave it back to Arthur with a smile, "I think it's a good thing. Everybody needs someone like that in their life. Unless you're Francis. Who seems to need a new person every other day."

"You wound me! It is my job to spread _la amore _around the world." Francis said with a dramatic gasp.

"It's your job to up hold the law, and speaking of your job, lunch is over." Arthur said paying the tab and walking out, not caring whether or not Francis was behind him. Sometimes he really wished he had a different partner.

Through the rest of the day Arthur worried. He and Alfred liked each other, but nothing official had been established. What if things didn't work out. Almost his whole unit thought he was dating someone…

When he got home, he tucked the letter back into the book, wishing he had just left it there in the first place instead of slipping it in his vest at the last moment like he did. Now he just had more things to worry about.

Sitting in front of he computer he turned it on, letting his head fall into his hands while it turned on. Things were getting out of hand before they even really started.

After the tell tale ding of the computer loading, Arthur opened his messages.

_Empty._

Blinking he stared at the computer screen.

Clam down, he was probably just to busy to check or something. You already knows you return his feelings. No reason to freak out. Stop worrying!

Setting skype as available, he turned on the TV. It came to life with the trademark national evening news.

"_In other news two F-22 fighter jets were shot down by insurgents in Afghanistan earlier today, the pilots are currently reported missing._"

Arthur froze as he was getting up from the computer, there's no way. Alfred?

"That's not possible," he mumbled to himself, "I don't even know what kind of plane he flies."

Eyes flitting to the picture on the mantle, he opened Google and looked up "F-22".

"Nononononononono," he said looking between the pictures. It was indeed the same type of plane Alfred flew. That didn't mean it was him? Did it? They also said missing, not dead.

"Fuck!"

Running his hands through his hair he waited at the computer, watching as the minutes ticked away on the on screen clock.

_Nine, Ten, Eleven_, no sign of a call or e-mail.

Panicked, he forced himself to take a shower. The warm water did nothing to soothe his worries, in fact it did just the opposite. Alfred could be dying of thirst in the middle of a desert right now, and here Arthur was watching water pour down the drain. Getting out of the shower he continued to let his thoughts run free. What if Al was sick, or injured?

Refusing to consider the fact that Al might be dead, Arthur forced himself to go to bed. It didn't help. The darkness that filled his bedroom just added to the plausibility of all the worst outcomes, haunting his thoughts and making sleep absolutely impossible.

The next day of work was excruciating. Everyone was acting so goddamn happy. It took half a team to hold Arthur back from attacking Francis when he made a jab about how tired he looked.

Days passed, and still no news from Alfred.

Curling up around the picture from the mantle, Arthur tried not to give in to the despair that was looming over him. He craved news, conformation, a hint, anything. Whoever said no news was good news was out of their bloody mind.

Beside the couch on the side table, Arthur's phone began to ring. Flinging himself upright, he grabbed the phone and answered it.

"Hello?" he asked rather loudly.

_"Artie?"_

"Yes," Arthru replied back, trembling.

_"Hi, I'm- uh- in a hospital in Germany right now. I guess I crashed my plane. I woke up a day ago but they wouldn't let me make any calls until after they ran some tests."_

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, his voice cracking with relief.

_"It's just a flesh wound and head trama. I'll live. Good news it they're gunna send me home early. Isn't that great?"_

"Really? When?" Arthur asked pressing the phone into his ear aching to be closer.

"_Friday, I should arrive at BWI sometime around 1400."_

"That's great. Hey Al, did you get my E-Mail?" Arthur asked suddenly remembering.

_"I don't think so…"_

"Oh," Arthur replied blushing, "In that case, I love you…"

There was a pause on the other end of the line,_ "Love you too Art, I need to go now, the angry looking German nurse is glaring at me again."_

Arthur muffled a laugh, "Bye."

Letting Alfred hang up he dropped the phone on the couch.

_He's alive._

**_He's coming home._**

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><p><strong>AN<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>I couldn't do it.<strong>

**I couldn't kill my babbu.**

**Now would be a good time to point out that I have never experienced what happens when a service member is injured. I was purely winging that.**

***BWI is an International Air Port near DC that the Military likes to stop at. I should know, they've sent us there like 4 times.**

**READ AND REVIEW. **


	3. Chapter 3

For the next few days Arthur was floating on his happiness. Work was wonderful, even lunch time. Francis and his incessant meddling couldn't even bother him. After days of failed attempts to rile the Englishman, Francis threw his hands in the air.

"I give up, why are zeu in such a happy mood?" Francis shouted before banging his head on the cafe counter.

"Like I would tell you. You would tell the whole bloody town," Arthur said ignoring his partner in favor of his tea.

Francis just pouted and threw Antonio a look, who just shrugged in return. The drastic improvement in Arthur's mood was something he wasn't about to question.

"Perhaps mon petit Angleterre got lucky~!" Francis said as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Don't call me that," Arthur mumbled, determined to not let anything ruin his day. Alfred was coming home, nothing would ruin that.

"Mon petit Angleterre~!" Francis sang out.

"I don't have to deal with this I'm taking the rest of the day off anyway," Arthur said pushing away from the counter.

"Oh? Why?" Francis asked picking his head off of the counter.

"Alfred," he said with a wink, walking out of the room just after he saw Francis's mouth drop.

Pulling on his shades he walked over to his car, he had left it there before work after he had gotten permission to take the evening off. Forsight.

Wiping his palms he unlocked the door and got in. He was nervous. Until now he hand't really been thinking about what he would do after Alfred got back. Would they actually start dating? Maybe they would move in together. Alfred might need someone to take care or him until his injuries fully healed. Running his hand through his hair quickly, he started the drive to the airport.

I should have brought a change of clothes, he thought to himself.

"Okay maybe foresight isn't quite my thing," he mumbled to himself, turning on the radio. Classical music floated through the air serving to clam his nerves slightly. He had a psychical knot of anticipation was twisting in his stomach, making him feel almost sick.

In what seemed like no time at all, Arthur was taking the exit for the airport. Making sure not to drive through the pick-up loop he found his way through the airport parking to a spot close to the gate Alferd would be coming in through. Getting out of the car he took a deep breath. He would finally be able to see Alfred again, not just see, but touch and feel. He would be able to hear that laugh without the static interference of trans-atlantic calls. It was almost too much for him to handle.

Checking the list of arrivals, Alfred's plane was on time. The Briton made his was through the airport, passing the USO, and making his way to the Starbucks. Ordering a steamed milk to pass the time, the English man watched as people went about their lives in the airport. Everyone was busy, places to go people too see. It reminded him of when he met Alfred, what if he had just decided not to visit the cafe that day. The very thought was abhorrent to the green eyed man.

Shaking his head and blowing on his drink to cool it, he let his mind wander through various things. Weather, sports, and news passed on the TV in the shop, he just let himself drift away on tide of thoughts.

Chewing on the inside of his check he check his watch, it was only about 1:20 driving to the airport hadn't taken as long as he thought it would.

"Bloody hell," he said letting his head bang on the table, the anticipation was killing him. Minutes seemed to take hours. Everything for five months was leading to what was about to happen, whether it be good or bad.

Deciding a walk would help, he dumped his full drink in the rubbish bin. Sugar wasn't what he needed right now. Passing by the flyby stores he stopped in one. _Should I get him something?_ He wondered. Would that be a little too much? Looking around at what he could get he looked for something simple, something that Al would like. Hunting around the shelves of miscellaneous Baltimore souvenirs, he couldn't find anything that would be appropriate. Why were these people so obsessed with crabs!

Spotting something out of the corner of his eye, he walked back to the last shelf.

"I suppose this could work," he said as he picked up the brown plush bear, examining it.

Taking the bear over to the counter, he paid for it, and walked out of the store clutching it to his chest. He had killed more time in the store than he thought.

As he made his way through the airport back to the arrival gate, he checked his watch. 2:03, he wasn't quite late. The plane did not seem to have unloaded, seeing as there were no people milling about in uniform. Though Arthur wasn't sure whether Alfred would even be in uniform of not. That point hadn't really been covered in the Alfred's call.

Rolling on the balls of his feet, he tried to see more of what was going on, it seemed another plane had arrived. A few false alarms followed, as he saw several blondes that weren't Alfred walk through the gate to their families. Moments passed and Arthur became distressed, maybe Alfred had told him the wrong time...

"Thanks for you help, Mam."

There, Alfred was receiving his carry on from a flight attendant. His head was covered in bandages, but his stubborn cowlick still stuck up above them. The very same way it had the day they met.

Unaware of the rest of his surroundings, he started walking to him. Well, it started out as a walk but turned into a full on run.

"Artie! It-" he was cut off with an umph, as Arthur flung his arms around Alfred's injured body.

"I missed you," Arthur said pressing his face into the rough fabric of Alfred's uniform. There were tears, but frankly Arthur didn't much give a damn about anything other than that Alfred was home and he was safe. Alfred hugged him back with his good arm.

"Hey hey hey, it's fine. I'm okay," he said stepping back and using his hand to wipe one of Arthur's tears away.

"Oh do shut up," Arthur said pulling his head down gently and pressing his lips against Alfred's chapped lips. It hadn't been something he planed to do, but he was glad he did. Alfred kissed back softly, murmuring words into the kiss. Arthur never wanted to let go. He didn't care about anything else.

Stepping back, Arthur blushed. He didn't the kiss to end, but it would be just like Alfred to hurt himself on accident during a kiss.

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><p><strong>AN<strong>

* * *

><p>I suck I'm sorry. FORGIVE MY HORRIBLE PROCRASTINATION.<p>

At least I got this done before I have to be off to camp this week.

I really don't know where else this fic is going to go, but I do have a lot of ideas for fics in this same universe. With a variety of pairings. I also have more unrelated USUK plots floating around my head. I'll developed them more at camp, so you'll have more to look back to when I get back.

Took a few liberties this chapter with how functional Alfred is being while injured, but eh~ I'll be playing the injures up more later.

I've been to the BWI airport so many times. I love it.

OH AND CRABS ARE SORT OF MARYLAND'S MASCOT.

ANYWAY.

Review please?


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